Interruptions (John/Sherlock)

((OK, sexy seducing Sherlock is coming your way!))

((Yay!!!!!))

"Alright." Sherlock snapped the sexy atmosphere that hung in the kitchen. He got up and grabbed his plate. "But I can't start when we're sitting like this."

Sherlock quickly calculated his chances. They were very high, but this was John of course. Much worked on him because they were in a relationship.


They both grabbed the spreads and put it in the kitchen cabinets. Sherlock deliberately and nonchalantly brushed his hand/arm/leg/whatever against John very lightly.

John put the plates and cutlery in the sink. Sherlock looked around and picked up the last thing on the table: the peanut butter. Just when John wanted to turn, he set the peanut butter on the kitchen cabinets, above the sink. He towered over him and looked him as intensely in the eye as ever. John's breath hitched and Sherlock read that he was uncomfortable, or at least wanted to seem so.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Sherlock apologised with a smirk before slowly taking a step back.

John looked up and narrowed his eyes with a smile. Apparently, he decided to not answer that.

Sherlock leaned against the closed cabinets and watched John how he did the dishes.

"I see what you did there."

John looked up and raised his eyebrows in a question. "What have I done?"

"You left the peanut butter on the table..." Sherlock curled his left hand around his neck, scratched there and let his hand follow the contours of his shirt until he reached the first closed button while speaking. "...For me to do something with."

"Ah, you picked that up, didn't you?"

"Of course I did." He let his eyes glide over John's appearance. His arse screamed to be grabbed and his lips screamed to be licked, but he thought better not to. Instead he let his hand (that had rested on his hip) fall down and he licked his own lips.

"I admire your attempts to help me, but that was not part of the plan. How am I going to learn this without a little push of help?"

((Ah!!! Why is my stupid computer not telling me when you update???? I've been sitting bored out of my mind, not realizing that you replied!))

"I thought you said you were a fast learner?" John challenged, "Come now, this should be practically effortless for you!"

John moved off of the counter and started circling Sherlock, arms behind his back, taking on the stance of a military official doing rank inspection.

"You read people, it normally only takes you moments to determine a person's quirks, so you should have no trouble assessing what turns your target on. You also have the benefit of possessing features that can appear both masculine and feminine, depending upon how you show them off. The bartender is gay, if he's attracted to a more effeminate man, your hands, neck, eyelashes, and lips will all serve you well- they're all thin and long, features associated with classic beauty, bringing women to mind. If he wants a more masculine figure, emphasize your chest and height, deepen your voice, keep your eyes sharper."

John continues, "You have a tendency to disregard personal space, which turns some people on, but you need to be careful with that. Crowding someone can make them feel threatened or dominated, which could be a turn off for your target."

"You did well with the touching, but don't be afraid to make occasional eye-contact when doing it, nonverbally let the person know you [i]like[/i] touching them."

John demonstrates this last point by putting a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. It would seem like a casual gesture, except for the look in John's eyes- they burned, both with attraction and affection. John gave a small smile, then backed away.

"Want to go for a walk? Maybe you can try again then, I still think I'm going to need further conviction if you want to convince me you want me."

((John is having fun with this, he's totally going to play hard-to-get. Yes, he has made this his 'mission'- Operation Make Sherlock A Flirting Pro))

((Whohoo! I like that mission. One problem though: I am a terrible flirter. Honestly, I never have a clue and I am pathetic... so yeah, John's gotta teach Sherlock a lot, I'm warning you ))

((I can sort of flirt when writing, but I'm completely HORRIBLE in real life- I honestly just come across as socially clueless. It's pathetic))

((We're in the same boat, I guess. But I don't really know how to be original in writing. I use cliché's a lot :P I made this one short-ish because I really had no clue what to do when they would walk u.u))

Oh. John was using his Captain Voice. It worked as an immediate turn-on, he realised.

"John." Sherlock tried to interrupt him again and again, but he only got strict glares back. Sherlock tried again, until John laid his hand on his shoulder and stared at him. His eyes burned with passion. It was so strong that Sherlock's own heart began racing more rapidly and his eyes probably dilated. Wow, eye-contact really worked.

He liked the challenge John gave him, but it wasn't really a challenge of course. John already was his.

"John." Sherlock said more insisting and slightly irritated when he was just done talking.

"What."

"I meant it as a pun." He rolled his eyes as if it wanted to scream: DUH!

((Fair enough. Ok, so I'm having it so that Sherlock didn't stress the pun enough for John to catch it, thus why John went on his little military rant.))

John blinks, suddenly falling into the quite familiar feeling of being an idiot in comparison to Sherlock.

"Ok, we need to work on your use of conventional humor. I would just...avoid using it tonight...That would normally work, but I did not pick up on it. Normally you add a bit more stress on the word you're punning."

John thinks back over the pun.

"Also if you make [i]that[/i] blatant a sexual innuendo with someone, I will tie you up and never let you leave the flat again."

John stands in front of Sherlock and strokes at his face, he laughs softly.

"I can't believe I'm even trying to help you with this. I know I'm going to end up hating myself for it later."

John's nose crinkles up as he smiles mischievously, "At the rate you picked up on this, maybe I could try teaching you some basic manners next! You could become a diplomat or something, get a job that your brother would be proud of."

Sherlock gives a look of utter disgust.

"Don't worry, I could never stand fancy dinner parties, and I'm not exactly the ideal diplomat's wife. Besides, I'd miss your rude comments too much."

John leans up and kisses Sherlock, still grinning cheekily.

((I still have visions of the various international crises that Sherlock could cause going through my head. It's a bit terrifying))

((Yes... Yes it is...))

No. No no no no no no no no way. NO WAY he was going to adjust basic manners. He panicked internally. Would John really want to change him that much? He clenched his teeth and widened his eyes in terror. Asking John for help had been a very very very big mistake. He wasn't even asking seriously, he had been answering John's question by asking it.

Sherlock didn't kiss back or even close his eyes, still struck in horror. His face gone pale and his heart gone cold. His body tensed up entirely. He would rather die than becoming like Mycroft. Yes, he would rather die very happily.

John felt that something was wrong and retreated with a worried frown on his face. Sherlock didn't want to meet his eye, which disturbed John even more.

"Oh shit. My joke fell very wrong, didn't it?"

Sherlock didn't answer and kept scrutinizing the floor.

Suddenly, he felt John's hand softly cupping his cheek and forcing him to face John.

"Sherlock, I wouldn't change you for the world. This is the you that I fell in love with. You're perfect to me."

These words worked like a sun that froze the cold away. It felt better. Much better. He probably would never hear these words enough, because no one had ever had such an opinion about him. Loved him like this. Sherlock had been hurt a little and now he was touched. What was it with those bloody feelings all the time!?

John leaned up to kiss Sherlock again and now he had more success. Sherlock somehow felt the need to express his feelings (that he had trouble coping with) in the kiss. A lot of emotion was behind it and they both felt it. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's waist and pressed him tightly to his chest. It was wonderful.

"But I won't like the flirting tonight." John said.

"Me neither." Sherlock admitted truthfully.

***

The day had gone by very calmly. They actually had gone for a walk, but they hadn't improved Sherlock's flirting skills. They both felt that it was wrong to do so. At four they had tea and biscuits with Mrs Hudson, which was very nice.

Now, Sherlock stood before his closet and pulled out the appropriate evening wear. He wanted to appear obviously gay, but he would not act like one. That would be too fake.

He decided to go for a tight jeans that he had from five years ago. But he wasn't sure about his top. With a smaller-size-than-usual-dark-blue-shirt and a very low-cut white V-neck T-shirt in hand, he went half-naked to the living room where John sat.

"What do you think: T-shirt or button-up shirt?"

((Maybe, at the club, John gets (fe)male attention too? Would be fun ^^))

((It could definitely happen. I could also see him getting bitter enough about Sherlock flirting to actually let someone hit on him))

John had felt like a right dick about his joke, and in his panic to something, anything, to get that frozen look off of Sherlock's face he let the word slip. That word, that forbidden word he swore he would never say out loud to another person because it only caused problems.

He admitted to loving someone. Shit.

Strangely though, it actually seemed to fix things in this case- like the way it does in the movies, which was...good, fantastic even, but unexpected and untrustworthy. It was still far too bloody dangerous a word.

~~~~

John looks up as Sherlock walks in the room, roused from his musings about the events of earlier that day.

For a few seconds all he could do was stare, fully aware that he looked like an idiot sitting there with his mouth open in shock, but unable to close it. He finally regain control of himself and swallowed.

"No."

"What do mean, 'no'?"

"I mean no. No way in hell. You are not going out in that. Christ Sherlock! You go walking out in that and every bloody person we pass by is going to want to jump you and fuck in the street. Hell, you look like...Adonis or something, sex personified, it's just...no!"

John closed his eyes to try and calm down. He rubbed his temples.

Eyes still closed, he answered the question, "The button-up would be most provocative, people like imagining popping open buttons. It also highlights your neck."

He continues talking, eyes still closed, "Sherlock, I'm going to have to...distance myself emotionally from you until we're through with this, otherwise I...won't be able to keep a level head, and that will just cause problems. Please, please go along with this, for the sake of the case and my own sanity. Try to...treat me as you would have last week, or last month, or when you find me being particularly slow at a crime scene."

((So yeah, apparently due to some yet unexplained event in John's past, he's afraid to tell someone he loves them in those exact words. Also, I think your outfit choice is very effective))

((please don't expect a useful post from me today. I just got home from a tiring, yet so interesting day and I'm going to sleep now. I promise to write tomorrow!))

((Ok, sounds like a plan. GET SLEEP!!!!!))

((omg no. I had been half-working for an hour or so, when I pressed some weird button and everything disappeared D: Shit. Now I'll have to write it ALL OVER AGAIN. Urhg.))

Sherlock smiled smugly about John's outburst. The image of John raping him on the street was quite hot and made Sherlock subconciously lick his lips. John thought he was sex personified, but apparently was bothered about it, he could tell by the way he swallowed hard and pressed his eyelids together.

"Ah, yes. That was exactly my plan." Sherlock paused.

"Remember: It's all acting, just like any other case." Sherlock grabbed his coat from the peg and disappeared into his room again.

Sherlock was the master of disguise and took great care in the details of his disguise. He added a few wristbands around his thin wrists, changed his pants into lime green ones and added a splash of cologne. He dressed with mixed feelings. On one side he was excited about the challenge, on the other he felt like a stone was put in his stomach. He was sure he could seduce that lad into anything. He was excited to test this and was not excited about the man himself. So, why was he feeling a tiny bit guilty?

He shook his head. No feelings were allowed, just like any other case.

When he was ready, he put his coat on. When he came into the living room, he saw John looking up from his paper, obviously appreciative of Sherlock's precaution.

"Ready?"

Sherlock didn't wait for an answer and made it for the stairs. John would follow him, he knew. He hailed a cab and gave the cabbie the address. During the ride, Sherlock gone through the details of the case. The bartender was the main suspect, well, nobody else could have done it, but he wasn't going to confess so easily. Sherlock got his phone out and texted to Lestrade:

To: Lestrade

Have some of your men in the club tonight. Important: not in uniform and not the same people as last night. Might get tricky.

Sherlock was out of the cab before paying, which was not a rare occurrence. Soon, John stood next to him, staring at the club. The rhythm of the bass was vaguely audible. Sherlock glanced sideways to John, who was wearing the everlasting pout. Sherlock felt the sudden urge to kiss it away, but restrained himself and went for the entrance.

They had no problems getting in. They handed over their coat and jacket to the wardrobe staff and with one brief moment of eye-contact, they threw themselves into the crowd.

((Oh god, that sucks!!!))

After Sherlock left the room, John looked down at his own clothes- not exactly clubbing clothes, he realized, he should probably change in order to blend in better. John went upstairs and looked through his dresser. Hmmmm, cargo pants from army training could work...tight black t-shirt, dogtags on top of the shirt, army boots...yes, that should do the trick.

He really couldn't believe he was doing this, he was far too old to be going to a club, he'd done it quite often when he was in university, but now? Sherlock, of course, would blend right in. God, the man looked practically sinful in that outfit, it really shouldn't be legal to let him out in it.

John went back downstairs and pulled on his jacket before sitting down again with the paper. Sherlock quickly swept out the door without looking at him, and he breathed a sigh of relief that the man had respected his request.

As they got out of the cab (John paying, as usual), the steady bass drifted over from the club. John tightened his lips, worrying if he could still do this. They handed over their coats, and one of the wardrobe staff eyed them both appreciatively.

Sherlock was about to sweep off, when John suddenly felt the overwhelming need to give him one last reminder of who he was dating. He caught Sherlock's arm.

"Hey, do I look alright, mate? Think I'll score tonight?" he asked, trying to fall into the character a bit.

Sherlock, at first seemed annoyed at being held back, but his expression changed as he looked John up and down slowly, actually taking in his appearance for the first time that night.

"You look...very good. I'd say your chances for the night ending in sex are excellent," he said with a strained voice, before quickly turning and melting into the crowd.

John wandered over to the bar and ordered a drink. He got a seat near the end of the bar, where he was inconspicuous, but had a fairly good view of the whole room. He saw Lestrade (looking as comfortable as John did with the whole scene) enter with three 'friends'. He caught his eye and waved. Lestrade came over, ordered a drink for himself, then settled down next to John.

"So where's Sherlock?"

"Not sure at the moment, I keep catching glimpses of him, but the lighting in this place is shit."

John scans the crowd to find his friend.

"You need to relax a bit Greg, you look like you're going to start checking the IDs of everyone who comes up to the bar."

"Sorry, I just...last time I was in a place like this was for my bachelor party and I have no memories of the rest of the evening. It was fun at the time, but I now realize how stupid I was, it's weird to be back."

"I know what you mean, but you'll be fine. Hell, maybe you'll even meet someone tonight who you can bring home, make your ex jealous!"

Lestrade grins, and starts to look more at ease, "Now that's an idea I'll drink to!"

((So yeah, added a few little tidbits (John is going as Captain tonight!!!), then got the cops in. No idea what Sherlock is doing at this point.))

((Unf. Captain!John is the best John. I really got a weakness for John's captain side. Hot. As. Hell.))

John attracted his attention again, which annoyed Sherlock very much. He was pretty far in his emotional-detachment-process and any distractions from his target got him out of concentration.

But when he let his eyes wander over John's body... Unf. Immediate hard-on. Primal lust inflated him. He very much felt like jumping John or even better: John jumping him like a Captain. John looked like sex itself.

Shit.

Sherlock answered with a strained voice, trying to control himself. He swiftly walked away, away from the urge to pin John to the wall and fuck him senseless. The plan of detaching his emotions fell into the water entirely. Not according to plan at all. He took a deep breath and set his eyes to his target.

He approached the bar and leaned over against it, still with the fire burning in his stomach. The bartender saw him alone and without a drink and got to him.

"Hi."

Sherlock looked up and scanned the other's body. He couldn't do a usual deduction because of the light, but he could make out the rough shapes of him. The bartender was smaller than him (a bit taller than John), broad (not as broad as John) and handsome (would never match John's sexiness). He wore an apron over a black low-cut-V-neck-T-Shirt (which suited John much better.) He had short dark hair, modelled by gel. Not that attractive.

Sherlock's eyes were still blown wide by John's look when he finally met his eye. "Hi."

It had immediate effect. The neutral smile on his face changed into an interested smirk. Sherlock raised one eyebrow, mutually smiling.

"Hi, I'm Sherlock." He introduced himself, holding out his hand for the bartender to shake.

The other wiped his hand on his apron before shaking Sherlock's. Sherlock traced carefully traced little circles with his thumb in the brief moment. "I'm Tom, hi."

The room was noisy and the everlasting bass thrummed through the room. Sherlock leaned forward to hear what Tom was saying.

Tom coughed before asking: "Can eh- Can I get you a drink?"

"A tequila please."

Tom smiled slightly, narrowing his eyes. "Isn't that a bit strong for your first drink?"

Sherlock remembered touching sensitive parts of himself and licked his lower lip. "I quite like it ... firm." He leaned closer to whisper the word in Tom's ear, blaming it on the music that he had to get so close.

Sherlock could clearly see the change in Tom's breathing pattern. He took a deep breath before leaning forward again. "I certainly cat get you thát." And he turned with a wink.

Tom gone fetching his drink, gave Sherlock a moment to breathe. Without ripping his eyes from Tom, he questioned himself. Why was he doing this? It gave him the least of pleasure. He only felt more sexually frustrated. He wished John was here, with him, but he knew he couldn't. This was a job to do alone, so he had to get on with this.

Tom frequently glared at him while making his tequila. Sherlock opened one more button of his shirt, so that it was one button lower than he usually wore. When Tom came back with his drink, he stretched his arms wide in a way he knew his shirt would be suffering. John always looked appreciately at him when he did that, even before they outed to each other.

"How much do I owe you?" Sherlock searched his back pockets, taking a long time feeling his bum and making sure Tom would notice.

"Nothing, it's free."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows in a surprise.

"Only if you'll promise to dance with me."

Sherlock smirked, this was all going too well. "When are you done working?"

"I pause in fifteen minutes. Meet me here then."

"Very much so."

He toasted his tequila in the air and gulped it down in one swift movement. He hated drinking, it slowed him down. There then, that's settled. He had been very eager to get to it immediately. Must be in for a flirt to forget what happened yesterday or... to pick a new target. The other bloke/victim had also been one of his flirts.

To make Tom want him coming back, Sherlock walked away from the bar after winking one more time. He walked into the crowd and hoped he would see John or Lestrade somewhere so that he could warn them. He spotted them at another bar and approached them.

((Well, glad to be pleasing both you and Sherlock))

John spots Sherlock, right as the man is leaving the bar. He has an empty drink in his hand. John frowns, he knows Sherlock doesn't drink. Also, why is his shirt so open? He already shows a ton of his neck normally, why does he suddenly need to show more?

As Sherlock is walking over, a girl comes up on John's left and touches his arm.

"Hello," she says, smiling coyly, "I'm Laura. You here alone?"

"Nice to meet you Laura. Unfortunately, I'm here on a mission tonight, helping out my buddy find someone special. He's just had a bad break-up, so I'm not worth your time. Sorry."

John walks away to meet Sherlock, before he can attack the poor girl. Not like she could know any better.

"You find our guy?" he asks, keeping a 'friends only' distance between them, and fighting the urge to either button up Sherlock's shirt or pull the damn thing all the way off.

((So I'm thinking that when John sees Sherlock dancing with Tom, he will accept a little flirting from another character. Might actually have someone be interested in Tom, and have John try to keep that person distracted, could make it fun))

((Sounds like a plan!))

Sherlock frowned when he saw a girl in John's presence, but was glad John immediately stepped at him when he saw him. He also saw John scrutinizing him, which wasn't very handy. And unf. John's dogtags swung in his walk a little and Sherlock had to clench his teeth to hold himself back. He sighed.

"Yes. In ten minutes or so, I'll meet him again. He was very persistent to dance." Sherlock stopped and leaned over to John's ear so that Sherlock would not have to scream. Then, he walked over to the bar where Lestrade stood, eyeing him and his look. When they came closer, Sherlock saw that Lestrade wanted to say something.

"My looks are not relevant. They are needed for the case, which is going really well. However-" He waited until both men were all alertness and listening. "his former victim was also a flirt, so please keep an eye open for me in case something happens. Of course, I can handle him perfectly-"

"Yes, of course, you can. And when did that work out?" Lestrade interrupted him. Sherlock rolled his eyes dramatically and sighed again. He just wanted to say something rude when-

"Boys, let's not do this now, OK?" John warned them and silenced Sherlock, who only replied in a pout.

Sherlock gulped. John had used his authoritative voice, which affected Sherlock more, because he couldn't touch John. John was so close and he couldn't touch, kiss, rape him! It was utterly maddening.

"And distract anybody who wants to interfere me. I can't use interruptions." Sherlock added strained and swiftly walked away. He had to lean against a far wall for a moment to temper his fucking uncontrollable feelings.

When he came back to the bar, Tom was waiting for him, leaning casually against the bar. He hadn't noticed Sherlock, because he wasn't approaching him from the front, but sideways, the way he was not looking. Sherlock very impulsively rounded his arm around his waist and said in his ear: "I'm back again.".

Tom jumped a little in surprise, but was happily surprised. A blush appeared on his face.

"Good." He grinned, grabbed Sherlock's hand and pulled him to the dance floor. The Dance floor was on a higher level, which came in handy for the agents in the room to spot him.

Once they found a decent spot to stand, Tom pulled him close immediately. Tom had his arms clenched around his waist and Sherlock saw no other option but draping his over Tom's shoulders. This didn't feel right, but Sherlock didn't show it. He had to distance himself very very very far away from his feelings to get on with this.

((Ok, just pointing this out- 'rape' means to force sex upon an unwilling victim, and it's actually a crime. I'm not sure if you were using that purposely or it was a mistranslation, but it didn't really make sense. It's a rather negative word, that's all.))

((Yeah, I know. I actually meant that Sherlock doesn't know how to react on such heavy impulses and that he might just take what he wants, even if John doesn't want to (which is quite mad, but yeah... It's Sherlock Donovan said that Sherlock might be so mad that he would be the one who put the body there.) I couldn't find a better word for it. I'm sorry if I insulted or hurt you in any way :x))

((Oh, no it's ok. That actually makes a lot of sense and is very insightful to his character. I just didn't understand. This is really annoying, I wrote out a whole post, but it apparently never went up...shit))

((Grr, I'm trying to remember exactly what I wrote an hour ago, because I want this to be the same...))

John has to bite down on his lip to keep from screaming when he sees Sherlock wrap his arm around that fucking bartender. He cannot believe how angry he's getting just standing here watching this. He feels sick- his stomach is churning and his skin is burning.

"Hey, John, you alright mate?" Lestrade asks, looking down at John's hands with concern.

John realizes that he was unconsciously clutching his hands into fists so tight that his knuckles were going white.

"I'm fine," John says stiffly. He forces his fingers to uncurl, and flags down the bartender for another drink, "something strong, please. I don't really care what."

"Look, I know this must be hard for you..." Lestrade begins awkwardly, but John cuts him off.

"Really Greg, I'm fine. It's for a case, I know he doesn't mean any of it."

The bartender brings John over a drink. He takes a sip and winces.

"Wow, I guess he took me seriously."

When John gets about halfway through his drink, Lestrade points someone out in the crowd to him.

"That guy has been watching Sherlock for the past two songs. I'm not sure which one of them he wants to dance with, but he's going to cut in at the next song change."

"I'll distract him."

"You sure you're ok? Not too tipsy?"

John snorts, "Hardly, between my genes and the army, my alcohol tolerance is deplorably high. Last time I got drunk I had to go through a whole bottle of scotch. This is nothing. You can even test me if you want."

Lestrade looks hard at John, "Ok, you seem fine, I'll lay off."

John walks over to the man, right as he's getting up to walk onto the dance floor. John strokes a hand down his arm.

"Hey you, looking for someone to dance with?"

The man looks down at John. He has a cool, cocky face- clearly someone who goes home with a new person every night. He's used to doing the flirting, not having someone approach him. John poses a new game for him, which is exciting.

"Maybe. Why you asking?"

"Well, you're far too handsome to be left alone for long. That means you either came with someone and are waiting for them to come back, or you just got here and you're still scoping out the room. I personally am hoping for the latter."

The man smiles, "You have quite the tongue for flattery."

"It's good for other things too," John whispers in his ear. He draws back with a seductive smile, "However, you're going to need to give me at least a few dances if you want to find out more about that. Want to make sure you're worth my time."

The man reaches out and trails a hand down John's chest, wrapping his fingers up in John's dogtags. He uses them to pull John in close, letting his other hand skim along the waistband of John's pants.

"Oh, I can assure you, I am worth your time. Once I have you to myself, you'll regret wasting your time here when it could have been spent at my place."

John draws back, keeping the disgust he is feeling off of his face. Instead he gives a playful smile and draws the man onto the dance floor, keeping him facing away from Sherlock- just in case he remembers his earlier target and changes his mind back.

The song switches to one with a dark beat, and the other man turns John around and draws him in close. He skims his hands all over John's body. John puts his hands on top of the other man's, trying to keep them away from his crotch- hoping that his partner will interpret this as being flirtatious rather than disinterested. The one good thing is that since his back is to the man- actually more like molded to him, there's no space between them at all- John can let his frustration with the situation show for a moment. This would be heaven if Sherlock was the one behind him, but Sherlock was across the floor practically glued to a potential murderer, and John was stuck getting groped by some greasy wanker who actually reminded him quite a bit of Anderson. Disgusting.

Anderson (as John had now named the man in his mind) roughly turned John around and reached his hands down to John's ass. He brought his lips down to John's ear and panted heavily in it.

"Want to show me some of those tricks with your tongue now?"

John decided not to answer, and instead started dropping to the floor with the music, skimming his hands down the insides of Anderson's thighs. Hopefully that would distract him for a bit.

((Oh my gosh. This guy is disgusting. I really hate him, and I wrote him. Eeew. I may have to contrive some opportunity for John to punch him, just because I hate him so much. Sherlock is also free to punch him at some point. Particularly if he tries to kiss John, which I could see him doing. Just... Ugh. He was not this gross an hour ago. Granted, that does make the whole thing more fun.))

((Oh no, that sucks! 'Anderson' indeed is brilliantly gross. Sherlock will feel like punching him. I feel hot angry sex coming up between our couple. ^^))

Sherlock and Tom were dancing. Well... dancing? Sherlock preferred the description: publicly groping the other while jumping awkwardly against each other. There was no space between them.

Before he knew it, Tom had his hand on his chest, feeling the tight buttons and with the other, he grabbed his arse rather violently. Sherlock didn't like it at all, but he was intrigued by the expression on Tom's face. It was possessive, lusty and menacing, which worried Sherlock. He felt obliged to show his faked interest by doing something back. He skimmed his hands over the other's chest and breathed in the other's neck. Tom's growing interest was getting sensible against Sherlock's thigh. Sherlock didn't share his excitement at all. It would be exciting if it was John. In fact: If it would be John, Sherlock would probably be bursting with uncontrollable want.

Tom turned them around Sherlock and got John in eyesight. Sherlock gasped and felt very much like throwing everyone out of his way and punching that man because HEY, his John was stroking the ugliest man alive's thighs! A sudden hate and anger infuriated him to every nerve. His breathing and pulse quickened and his eyes were blown wide. He had assigned the others to distract any possible interrupter, but he hadn't meant it like this!

Tom claimed his attention back by teasing the waistband of his pants. Sherlock was awkwardly glad with the sudden flash of hate, because they strangely looked like symptoms of arousal. He very lightly stroked Tom's neck while rumbling in his ear:

"Tell me what you are going to do with me, like you did with your other boys."

Tom stiffened and backed a little. "What other boys? Who told you that?"

"You seem very experienced." Sherlock had traced his hand down Tom's chest and bluntly groped Tom's crotch to distract him. It clearly worked. Tom clenched to him and pressed him even closer to his sweaty chest.

Sherlock glanced at John and to his horror he saw that the other man tried to kiss John. John was now facing him too and they shared a moment of eye-contact. John looked terrified, desperate and angry at the same time. Sherlock should hurry. Fortunately, Tom answered.

"Do you really want to know? I will take you to the rear exit, shove you up to a wall and knock you out. Then I will take you to the roof of a high building and fuck you senseless. Finally, I will silence you forever."

Well, that was pretty direct. Sherlock slipped his hand in the pocket where his mobile phone was and pressed the send button. He had a text ready to Lestrade and John in case of emergency, which contented the only word: Now.

((Yes!!! I can get both of these creeps away from our boys!!!! Thank God!!!!))

John felt his phone vibrate, and he knew what the text was without having to read it. Time to move, thank God. He pulled back and shoved the creep Anderson away from him.

"Hey, what the hell?"

"Sorry, changed my mind."

"Oh no you don't, you little slut!" Anderson grabbed at him and roughly pulled him in for a kiss. John jerked back and punched him in the face. He might have knocked out a few teeth.

He quickly walked over to where Sherlock was. He checked to make sure Lestrade was close enough, before quickly grabbing Sherlock and pulling him away from the suspect. It was amazing how much better he felt, just having Sherlock in his arms again, instead of dancing with some murderous creep. Yeah, that was definitely not good, should never happen again. Also, he had decided that maybe sometime he and Sherlock should try club dancing, but only with each other.

"Hate to disappoint you mate, but he actually already has plans this evening. With me. Did he not tell you that?"

John had his arm wrapped quite obviously around Sherlock's waist, both offering comfort and sending the clear message that Sherlock was his. He turned slightly, keeping the other man in view, but focusing on Sherlock. He lifted up a hand, and stroked lightly at Sherlock's curls- his knew his eyes were still dark and wild from his anger earlier, but right now he was overtaken with concern, thinking of all the things this man could have done to Sherlock.

"You ok Sherlock?" he asked, voice low and gruff near Sherlock's ear, "He didn't hurt you or anything?"

As he asked this, Lestrade came up and arrested the man.

((Yay!!!! Much better!!!!))

Sherlock freed himself from Tom's grip when he saw John in a struggle with the ugly bloke, but when the man kissed John involuntarily, all the brakes were cut. Tom jumped him to get control over him, but Sherlock was tugging violently to break free, getting bruises on his arms and shouting in his low voice that couldn't match the music's volume.

Tom was forcing him to that rear entrance when he was tugged away from Sherlock. The next moment, he had John in his arms and against his chest and everything felt so much better. It was wonderful how everything changed when he had John back. His John. His John who was petting his curls, who was worried about him. The thrumming of his heartbeat was probably pounding in John's ears but he didn't care. Nothing mattered but John right now.

Well... maybe there was one exception.

"Depends..." He growled and softly released himself from John's grasp. He walked over to that scum that dared to kiss his John. Sherlock felt John, tugging slightly at his sleeve, but he shook that off.

"How. Do. You. Dare. To. Kiss. My. John?" Sherlock said threatening. If looks could kill, that disgusting man would be long dead by now. He was feeling his aching jaw and looked just in time up to see a flash of Sherlock's fist that punched the other side of his jaw with a grunt.

Sherlock panted in relief and looked down to the bunch of flesh that had been his target. He wanted to hit him again, John pulled him back just in time.

"That's enough, Sherlock." John said sincere, but a tiny smile played across his lips. John's eyes were very clear in contrast to Sherlock's, whose pupils were blown wide with post-anger.

In the corner of his eye, Sherlock saw the security of the club making their way through the crowd. Sherlock grabbed John's hand.

"Let's get going."

((You can decide if they're going home already and talk everything through, or that they stop to drink/eat something and talk everything through or that they go to another club and do stuff. Well, decide for yourself, I'd say! :)))

John can't decide if Sherlock's utter fury at the man who had kissed him was sexy, sweet, funny, frightening, or just utterly Sherlock. He finally decided on the latter as he pulled Sherlock away from the man.

Then he and Sherlock were quickly slipping out of the club, as usual just barely staying on the right side of the law. As they caught their breath outside of the back door John started laughing, tension from the night draining out.

"God, you're wonderful. I know I say it all the time, but I feel like it's something I can never tell you enough."

He looks over at Sherlock, really wanting to kiss the man, but his mouth somehow feels dirty and disgusting from the other man kissing it, combined with the now stale flavor of his drink earlier. He looks over his shoulder and miraculously sees a 24-hour convenience store across the street.

"Hey, wait here for me a second, ok?"

He runs across the street to the store and buys a small bottle of mouth wash. The clerk gives him a knowing look.

"Bad time at the club?"

"Got kissed by someone who's mouth tasted like old shoe. Want to wash out my mouth. I have someone much better to go home with, don't need to kiss them with the taste from that mouth."

The clerk nods wisely, "Very considerate of you."

John runs back across the street, narrowly missing being hit by a cab. He opens the bottle of mouthwash, takes a swig, swishes it around, then spits it out. He runs a hand across his mouth.

"There, now I feel like I can kiss you again."

John is surprised when he looks up that Sherlock is glaring at him, eyes absolutely furious...and he has no idea why.

"What's gotten in to you?" he asks.

Sherlock stalks past him without a word and hails down a cab.

"Sherlock!" John yells, annoyed.

Sherlock just grabs John's arm and pulls him into the cab. He gives the driver their address, then refuses to look at John the entire ride. He storms out from the cab when it stops at Baker Street, and John as usual, is left running after him. When they finally both make it into the flat, John snaps. He grabs Sherlock and slams him against the wall.

"Ok, I've had enough of your silent treatment!!! Would you act like a bloody adult and tell me what's gotten you into such a strop? I can't read your mind, so I really don't know why your treating me like this, but it's pissing me off!!!"

John anger from earlier leaks back into his mind.

"It's bad enough I had to sit back and watch some murdering rapist paw all over you for the whole night, now we're finally home and you're treating me like you just caught me sneaking out to that club behind your back or something!!!"

((So, needed to contrive a way for John to get over his post-case giggles. Best way to do that, have Sherlock throw a pointless fit. Then get the boys home so that they can have their screaming match- which will most likely turn into hot angry sex- in private. Sorry that I left you with an inexplicably pissed off Sherlock. I tried to frame it in a way so that maybe John's purchase of mouthwash was enough for him to turn his anger at the man for kissing John over to John for dancing with 'Anderson' in the first place. Couple that with John just walking off on him...I don't know. I tried to make it look like Sherlock had a real reason for this fit, not that he necessarily always needs one.))